The Evolution of Need
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: A short two chapter fic exploring how Sherlock went from self satisfaction to satisfying Molly. It's both Wanklock! and Sherlolly, a chapter of each. Rated M for smut.
1. The WankLock!

**So I'll be honest this one started out as a smutty one shot around with a Wanklock theme but it morphed into more of a full on Sherlolly fic. Don't worry though it's only two chapters long.**

 **As for coming up with a title I had to rope in lilsherlockian1975 to help me out as I couldn't think of anything which adequately described what this is, so to thank her for her help…Lil, this is dedicated to you, you are the bestest friend I could ever have wished for.**

 **Chapter 1**

Once a week, regular as clockwork, Sherlock Holmes would masturbate.

In the early days of his abstinence he tried to just ignore this simple bodily function; to will it away, ignore it. But he found that sexuality and sexual release was not something that could easily be denied. It found a way and that normally meant him waking up covered in both sweat and his own semen, forcing him to have to change the bed and shower.

So instead his concession was to give in, but in a controlled way. A control that he soon worked out was needed at least once a week. It was normally on a Sunday night, but it would vary occasionally, sometimes delayed a day or two if he were wrapped up in a case. He would go to bed slightly earlier with the express intention of giving rein to his desires, to indulge in whatever fantasy would quickly and efficiently bring him to climax.

He'd been almost embarrassed at first, seeing his capitulation and subsequent ejaculation as a sign of failure but over the years he had come to terms with it and even allowed himself to look forward to it.

His choice of 'material' had altered as well over time. In the early years he had used images from his recent past, memories of past liaisons teased over and reimagined until they grew ineffective with overuse and he had to seek out new ideas. It was fortunate then that it was around this time that John moved in with him, bringing along his laptop and an interest horde of bookmarks and favourited sites. Sherlock would peruse through them, tucking away in his mind the images that most turned him on, filing them away to be brought back out when he needed them.

It was a bit of a surprise when he found his encounter with Miss Adler starting to feature in those weekly sessions. He hadn't particularly found her attractive but maybe it was the sight of all that naked flesh in real life, after years of computer images that seized his imagination. He'd also had to look through her website and now he could visualise her wielding whips and restraining him. He would close his eyes and feel his body arching under him as he desperately jerked himself off, feeling his own cock hard and unyielding, waiting for that sweet moment when he could feel his climax overtake him, wiping out thought and emotion and any other sensation other than that of his completion.

As with everything else though he tired of her modern and commercially formulaic sexuality and so he returned to John's laptop.

It was when he 'died' and had to leave the country that he first visualised Molly Hooper and once again, just as he had when he had first started indulging in this activity, he felt guilty; a little ashamed. Molly was his colleague; more than that even, she was his friend but it seemed that once the idea found a foothold in his brain he couldn't shake it off.

He imagined her watching him fall, her face a picture of horror and grief, but then she would see him again and her despair would morph into joy. She would fling her arms around him and kiss him with such unabated passion that he could feel himself becoming hard and ready for her.

In his mind he had taken her a hundred different ways; she had been beneath him calling his name; above him writhing like a Greek goddess as she rode him; on her knees with her beautiful mouth wrapped around his cock as he'd pumped his seed into her; face down on his bed with her ass in the air as he'd rammed himself inside her, hearing her cry out for more.

He'd hoped that coming home and seeing her again would help him to go back to just seeing her as a friend. Instead he'd found she belonged to another and for some reason that escaped him the thought of it drove him crazy. Once a week soon turned into twice a week and even embarking on a fake relationship with Janine did nothing to remove thoughts of Molly from his mind. He found himself counting down the days, the hours, the minutes until he could be with her again; both in reality and in his fantasies. Then he'd catch himself watching her in the lab or the morgue and he'd feel as though he were losing his mind. Outside of his work she seemed to be all he could think about.

He would lie in the dark of his bedroom and close his eyes letting images of her wash over him until he could feel himself starting to respond physically. He'd push down his pyjamas, hooking them under his balls before taking hold of his shaft with a firm grip. His favourite image was of her at work, wearing her lab coat, her hair up in its normal and familiar pony tail. The difference was he knew she was naked under that coat and as she walked towards him she would start to unbutton it. As it fell from her shoulders he would increase the pace of his hand, fisting his cock up and down, feeling the pre-cum sliding down and lubricating his movements making him imagine what it would feel like to enter her.

He'd visualise her lying on one of the lab desks, her knees already parted and raised, ready to receive him, her arms held out to him. As he imagined himself sliding into her his grip would increase and he'd start to feel that delicious tightening starting low in his abdomen making his balls ache and his cock twitch repeatedly. He'd know as he got close, letting his hand pull and push on the skin from the base of his erection to the tip, his hips rocking back and forth in time with his hand.

He saw her calling his name and moaning, begging him for more and he wanted to give in to her. Each time he wanted to give her more of himself until he didn't know where she started and he ended. Then he'd come crying out her name; glad that the only person who might hear was in the floor below and going slightly deaf.

The week after he'd been shot he was in hospital recovering from his escapade with Mary and John but this time, probably due to his lack of energy and frail state he pictured her in a far less passionate way than normal. He'd imagined the two of them just spending an evening together. Molly cooked whilst he'd worked on his experiments and then after their meal he lain on the settee with his head in her lap; the two of them watching television with her playing with his hair. It had felt so comforting and so right that instead of wanting to touch himself he just found himself wanting to hold her.

His recovery was slow but steady and he didn't see Molly once. John assured him that she had been there; that she had sat by his bedside night after night when he had been sedated or asleep but she was never there when he was conscious and it bothered him more that he would have thought it would.

By Christmas he was back in Baker St and his sexual needs had returned in full force almost enough to distract him at times from the evil filth that was Charles Augustus Magnusson. He had thought about trying to contact Molly but had stopped himself each time. His texts just looked too much like dates and he was concerned that his sexual frustration was overlapping into his actual life and not confined to the one beneath the bed covers.

His ministrations on himself by now were often unfulfilled and dissatisfying. He could jerk himself off until his hand and wrist ached and he'd almost have tears of desperation and frustration in his eyes and when he finally came he'd be left feeling hollow and disgruntled; thoughts and emotions crawling and nagging at the back of his mind seeking relief.

It was no small factor in his decision to take drugs just prior to his exile. The realisation that he would be leaving England and would never see her again had brought into sharp relief for him just how bad his decision had been to repress his feelings for the women in his life and in particular for his pathologist. And he did acknowledge it now; he was in love with Molly Hooper and had been for at least two years maybe even longer.

As he had made his decision to shoot Magnussen the one regret was never being able to tell her how he felt and so the drugs were a way of blotting out his pain and anger he felt from his own inaction. As he drifted in and out of reality he saw how angry she was with him in his drug induced fugue state and that anger came directly from within.

He knew he had to deal with the Moriarty thing but for once he was actually indebted to him because it gave him a second chance at life and love and it was one he wasn't about to throw away.

As they drove away from the airport he'd given the driver Molly's address and seen Mary's knowing smirk at the same time as John's jaw had dropped in shock, 'Molly's...you're going to Molly's place. Are you out of your mind?' As he said the latter he turned to his wife with disbelief written in his face before turning back and shouting, 'but yes, of course you are because you just nearly fucking killed yourself Sherlock. You need to go to hospital.'

Sherlock just looked coldly at John, irritated by his nagging concern, 'Molly's a doctor, she would be more than capable of treating me if that's what I needed.'

'And what about the case, what about Moriarty? Are we just supposed to sit around a twiddle our thumbs whilst you what...in fact, why exactly are you going to Molly's flat?'

Mary's smirk grew wider and she turned to look out of the window for fear that John would see it.

Sherlock took a deep breath and considered saying nothing but he'd repressed his feelings for Molly for too long and if he was going to do this he was going to do it right. She wasn't some dirty little secret. So he turned to his best friend and looked him square in the eye, 'I'm going to tell her I'm in love with her and hope that she will have me.'

John let out a strangled, scoffing laugh and looked at Mary as though seeking assurance that he had heard what he thought he had just heard. Sherlock could see the realisation that Mary already knew wash over his features; John was always so transparent.

'Are you sure you're not still high?'

Sherlock shrugged, 'maybe a bit but I know what I'm doing. You've seen the list, I was careful with the balance. I don't want any sudden crash or adverse reactions. By the time i get to Molly's I'll be almost back to normal.'

John played his last card, 'and how do you think Molly will react to the news that you've been using again?'

This one had Sherlock shifting uncomfortably in his seat and studiously looking out of the window. He had no good answer for that one. Molly had made it more than clear how she felt about his drug use. He'd just have to be honest and see what happened.

He dozed for part of the journey and had to be woken when they pulled up outside Molly's block of flats. He glanced at his watch and knew she'd be finished with work and probably home. For the first time in a long while he felt that jitter of nerves in his stomach. This was the moment of truth, he was prostrating himself and his heart before a woman for the first time in his life and he had no idea what she would say.

John seemed to be ignoring him now. His arms were crossed and he refused to make eye contact but Mary leant forward and touched his knee, 'good luck Sherlock. I have a feeling you'll need it...but you're doing the right thing.'

He nodded his head once and turned back to John, 'I'm meeting my brother in Baker St tomorrow at ten. If you are still interested in the case I'll see you then.' There was no response so he just said good night to Mary and then he climbed out of the car, waiting as it slid away into the night.

He buttoned his coat and then turned to look up at Molly's flat. The light was on and it warmed his heart on that cold evening to know that she was up there; that he would soon be with her.

A minute or so later and he was outside her door waiting for her to answer with no idea as to how this conversation was likely to go. He heard the faint sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. As the door started to open he noticed his hands feeling shaky and his heart rate increasing and he wasn't sure if it was the drugs or nerves that he was finally about to see her after all this time.

 **So, that's chapter one. I'd love to know what you think of it so far so please review.**

 **Chapter two will be posted on Monday so until then take care my fellow Sherlollians wherever you are in the world.**


	2. The Sherlolly

**So you've enjoyed the Wanklock now it's time for the Sherlolly. It seems with my fics that all paths lead to Sherlolly :). Thank you again to all who reviewed for all your support, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter just as much.**

 **and thanks again to Lil for the title...mwah!**

 **Chapter 2**

As she opened the door he saw immediately that she had been crying and as she looked at him with something akin to seeing a ghost he realised that she had known already that he was being sent to his death. Before he had even had a chance to say anything or step through the door she launched herself at him and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist with her head buried in his chest.

He staggered a little at the unexpected force of her actions before righting himself and slowly putting his own arms around her in return. The feeling of finally holding her almost floored him and her obvious, continued upset tugged at his heart strings making him desperately want to protect her from any more pain.

She was sobbing against his chest and he could feel her hands scrabbling on his back trying to hold him closer still and he strained to make out what she was saying.

'I'm so sorry Sherlock, I should have come to see you...I didn't know, I didn't realise...if I'd known...'

Gently he prised her away and gestured for them to go into her flat. She made her way into the front room and threw her used tissues into the small wicker bin by the fireplace before plucking two more from the box on the coffee table. She blew her nose and wiped her tears before turning to face him.

'God, I'm such a mess. Sorry. I...I hadn't realised you'd be able to come and see me. Mycroft made it sound like you wouldn't. How...how long have you got?' That final question made her face crumple once more and tears leak down her cheeks.

He stepped forward and put his hands on her arms suddenly realising the need to make her understand, 'no, Molly, it's fine. I'm not going anywhere, not any more. You must have seen the Moriarty clip?'

She was frowning now in confusion as her mind tried to take in what he was saying, 'yes...I'd just taken the call from Mycroft and was getting ready to leave work...I couldn't stay...not knowing that you...I just couldn't...'

'That clip changed everything. They needed me back, so here I am.'

'But for how long?'

'For good. Someone else will be sent in my place...' A sudden wave of shakiness washed over Sherlock forcing him to stagger before sitting down on the settee. He closed his eyes as he struggled to regain his composure and he felt Molly's hand cool against his forehead.

'Are you alright? What's the matter?'

He tried to brush her off, 'yes, yes I'm fine.' He opened his eyes and the room span initially causing a wave of nausea to wash over him. He was almost regretting not following John's advice to go to hospital. He finally looked at her and immediately regretted it. Her eyes narrowed as she looked into his and he saw her features morph into anger, 'you're high. That or coming down, God Sherlock I can't believe you've been taking drugs again.'

She pushed herself off the settee and stomped off into her kitchen. He could hear her banging about and wanted to follow her but he still felt too unsteady. He shrugged out of his coat feeling too hot and knowing he'd probably soon be feeling too cold; the drugs messing with his internal thermostat.

A moment later and she returned with a pre filled syringe in a plastic wrap and some water.

As he picked up the syringe he looked at it and then looked at Molly, 'and why exactly do you have Naxolone in your flat Molly?'

She huffed and watched as removed his jacket and he rolled his sleeve up, 'maybe because I'm friends with a man who's prone to stupidly and repeatedly taking opiates.'

There was an uncomfortable silence as he injected the medicine. It wasn't a full dose but would be enough to help his system to stabilise.

'Why?'

He glanced at her and shrugged, 'why not?'

Her voice rose, 'don't be flippant. Why?'

'I thought I was leaving for good. Leaving England...leaving you.' He nervously looked at her as he said that last bit but she barely seemed to notice.

'You could have killed yourself Sherlock. You could have had a heart attack, a stroke. You could be passed out and choking on your own vomit. You know this!'

'Molly, I thought you said Mycroft had made it clear. It was a suicide mission, I figured it didn't much matter whether that suicide was sooner or later.'

He knew he'd told her more than she had known the moment she put her hand across her mouth and her tears started to gather in her eyes once more.

He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head '..and you didn't know that! What did he say? That I was leaving the country and that I would probably not come back and you took that to mean I was working abroad and emigrating.'

She gulped and nodded her head, obviously not trusting herself to speak.

He leant forward with his elbows on his knees and he ruffled his hair before wiping his hands over his face. He could feel the new medication starting to take effect, removing some of the shakes he'd been experiencing.

'Did he tell you why?'

She finally found her voice, 'yes...he said you'd been responsible for killing that newspaper magnate on Christmas Day. The one whose photos are all over my spare bedroom wall.'

Sherlock nodded his head slowly and then tilted it to look at her, 'and does that bother you?'

She returned his gaze unfalteringly, 'I assumed he was a bad man and you could see no other alternative. Am I right?'

He was amazed once more by her absolute belief in him. So much so that he had to clear his throat before he could reply, 'yes...yes you're right.'

'So what now? I assume you're here because you need something.'

He allowed himself a small smile, 'I do Molly...I need you.'

She nodded and wiped her eyes once more, 'OK fine...where are we going?'

She started to stand and he caught her hand to stop her from walking away and retrieving her coat or whatever it was she'd been planning to do, 'no, I don't mean like that. I mean I need you Molly.' He took a deep breath but went on, 'I love you.'

She stared at him for the longest moment before sitting down heavily back onto the settee. He could see disbelief and confusion, 'I...I know you care about me as...as a friend Sherlock and I...I love you too.'

She hadn't believed him and he didn't blame her. He had never given her any indication that his feelings were anything more than platonic.

He shifted closer to her and this time he placed his hand on the side of her face relishing how soft her skin actually felt in reality and surprised by how petite she really was; his hand seemed to dwarf her features making her seem more vulnerable that he knew she was. His Molly was strong; a fighter.

'No, Molly. You misunderstand me. I love you.'

The room was so quiet that he could hear each breath she took as she looked at him. He could see the battle raging in her eyes between her desire for it to be real and her utter disbelief that it was. 'It's just the drugs...it's...'

'No!' He felt her jump a little at the sharpness of his tone. He softened it as he continued, 'no, it isn't. My feelings for you predate this latest foray into narcotics. I've loved you for a while, I just...well, let's just say that facing death makes you realise what is important...and you Molly, are the most important thing in my life and I need you to know that.'

He heard her intake of breath at his admission and saw how her eyes dilated as she looked at him. He let his hand slide down to her neck and he could feel how fast her pulse was beating. Bit by bit he moved towards her, almost as though he were worried he would spook her and make her run away. He licked his lips and saw her eyes watch, saw as she bit her own lip nervously, seeing the pink skin slide between her teeth before release.

When his face was about an inch from hers her eyelids fluttered shut and he felt a spike of happiness at the realisation that he was really going to kiss her.

His own eyes shut as his mouth pressed against hers; his whole world narrowing down to that one, single action. He pulled back for a split second and then kissed her again, harder this time. The third time her mouth opened to him and he leant into her, his hand looping around her back pulling her closer to him. There was an urgency to it that unnerved him. Her mouth was soft and warm and yielded to him in a way that made him want so much more from her.

He felt her hand as it moved into his hair; her blunt nails scraping along his scalp setting off a delicious chain reaction which went straight to his groin. He moaned out loud as her tongue entered his mouth and he moved forwards as she moved backwards so that he was more or less lying on top of her on the settee.

Her other hand had crept under his jacket and was even now pulling at the back of his shirt, removing it from his trousers so she could feel his skin and he wanted the same from her. He broke away from the kiss hearing her gasp for breath even as he kissed down her neck. He used one hand to take his body weight whilst the other single-handedly undid the buttons of her shirt until it fell apart revealing her bra covered chest. He hadn't expected her to be wearing black underwear and the sight of the black lace bra against her pale, white flesh made his mouth run dry.

She pushed on his shoulders until he sat upright and then she mirrored his earlier actions in slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. He took the opportunity to reach around her and quickly undo her bra, pulling the straps down her arms as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders until it finally fell to the floor. It seemed they both couldn't get enough of the other person and there was a silent battle of wills over who would give in.

In the end it was Molly who ended up lying back down on the settee with her hands tangled in Sherlock's hair as he sucked and bit each of her breasts and nipples in turn, listening to and relishing every gasp and cry and sigh that she made. He loved how vocal she was and how much better the reality was over all his fantasies.

He knew he was hard for her, he had been since the moment they had started kissing and he couldn't wait to finally be inside her but he wanted her to have as much enjoyment from their first time together as he would.

His hands moved to the fastenings on her trousers as they kissed once more. She tasted amazing and he just wanted more of her. He managed to push them open and he cupped her sex through her pants as her hands raked down his back sending pulses of pleasure rippling through him. It didn't take long for him to slide his hand inside her pants and he soon realised how wet and slick she was for him. It made him groan out loud and he had to move his lips to her throat whilst he got control of his reactions.

His erection ached and throbbed as he slid two fingers inside her. The way she breathed his name out and her muscles clenched around him made him twitch in such a way that he wondered if he might actually come before they had even gone any further. He had to start to recite the periodic table in an effort to calm himself.

It seemed that Molly was just as aroused. Her hips and pelvis rocked up to meet him as he let his fingers slide in and out of her; the heel of his hand moving and pressing against her clit. Within seconds she was crying out and convulsing around his hand and he knew he was leaking pre-cum into his trousers as she clung to him riding out her own non-drugged high.

Before she could even start to feel any embarrassment he kissed her once more feeling her small hands starting to pull at the buttons and zip of his trousers. He was lost in her kiss and in his need for her. Somehow in all the heady confusion she managed to kick off her own trousers and pants so by the time she released him she was bare and open and ready for him.

Without even breaking their kiss she positioned him at her entrance and he swallowed her moan as he pushed himself into her.

She felt so tight and hot and wet and he was so desperately needy for her that he had to take a moment. He let his head fall onto her shoulder as he stilled and took one shaky breath after another. She held him for a few moments letting her hands trail across his back with one of them finding its way back into his curls once more until finally she rocked her hips up towards him encouraging him to move.

Tentatively he thrust himself into her, just letting the physical sensation of finally being joined with her wash over him. He had forgotten how good it could feel to be with another human being and he had never known how emotional it could be when that person was someone you not only cared about but loved.

Bit by bit his movements became more confident until he was almost withdrawing from her completely, feeling the cool air around his pulsing cock before plunging back into her welcome heat. He knew that she was close to a second orgasm and he urged her on, lifting her knee so he could hit that spot inside her that would send her over the edge into a second climax.

As he felt his own arousal reaching the point of no return he called out her name, begging her to come for him and as he said it he felt her tighten around him; her nails digging into the skin of his backside as she urged him to go deeper and harder. As he came with her he felt his mind go completely blank, the thoughts that were normally raging and driving him mad stilling and compressing until all there was was Molly and the physical relief and pleasure of coming.

He gave one last deep thrust, burying himself as far into her as he could possible go, pouring everything into her and she took it all. She took all his pain and love and need and made it her own and he knew absolutely that he never wanted to be without her again.

They shared one more slow, erotic kiss before he moved himself off her and watched as she made her way to the bathroom. He had never in his wildest dreams expected them to have moved this fast but it had all just felt right.

Eventually he hitched his trousers back up, loosely zipping them, before wandering into her kitchen to flick the kettle on and find something to eat. It seemed that an almost overdose and indulging in sex gave him quite an appetite. By the time Molly came back out, wrapped up in a fleecy dressing gown, he was pouring out the water into the coffee cups and chewing on the ham sandwich he'd made for himself.

He heard her walk in and lean against the counter and he turned ready to pass her her cup of coffee but he paused when he saw her expression.

He set the cup down and swallowed the food as he walked over to her. Slowly he pushed a strand of hair over her ear and he bent his knees a little so he was closer to her height, 'penny for your thoughts.'

She looked up and gave him a weak smile, 'did you mean it or have I just made a huge mistake and given in to a drug-fuelled one night stand?'

He cocked his head to one side and smiled, 'for starters the drugs are almost out of my system now and for seconds yes I did mean it, every word.'

He sighed, 'look Molly. We both know that I am far from perfect. I'm pretty emotionally messed up but you've always known that and for some bizarre reason you've loved me anyway. So yes, I'm sure I'll drive you mad and I'll do stupid things that make you angry but one thing I can promise you is I love you and I need you and now I've realised it I don't ever intent to forget it. So, Molly Hooper, if you'll take me...for better or for worse, I'd like us to give this a go. What do you say?'

She looked up at him and although he could see concern and nervousness he was never for one moment in doubt of her answer. Slowly she smiled until that smile became a grin as she wrapped her hands around his neck and stood up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him, 'I say yes Sherlock...always...always' and the feel of her lips on his made everything seem possible.

 **And there we'll leave them, give them a bit of privacy as I'm sure they'll want it. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little diversion. Let me know and I'll be back soon.**


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